Seventeen Moments
by santander16
Summary: As Sirius Black is taking his final step into the peace of death, he relives the 17 most important moments of his life...
1. Prologue

_**One day, your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it's worth watching.**_

_**-Anonymous **_

Standing in the nothingness that stretched out for an eternity before him, the man took a deep breath. The air was sweet and cool, surprisingly refreshing, and yet somehow he knew that it was unnecessary. Unnecessary because you don't really need to breathe when you're dead.

The man spread his arms, letting the sun hit him squarely in the chest and warm it thoroughly. Again, the feeling was hollow, beautiful and yet meaningless. The man felt sure that anything worth doing had already been done, anything worth experiencing already experienced.

Somehow, although no one had told him, the man knew that when he stepped forward, that would be it. The universe, perfect and ready, sat before him, quietly waiting to accept him into its folds and its winds and its magic. He wasn't frightened, for he felt sure that soon, everything would be all right again. Soon, everything would be just the way it should be. All he had to do was take that last step. And after so many wearied steps, after so much running, so much striding forward into the hatred and the fighting and the violence and the danger and the utter chaos he'd seen in his life, what was one more step? One small step, in the peace of this nothingness that was oddly comforting, and he wouldn't have to walk anymore. Wouldn't have to keep dragging himself forward for the good of those he loved, for the cause in which he'd believed so strongly, for that unknown reason that sat in his heart and urged him forward in spite of the darkness there.

There was no more darkness. Not anymore. The man had left that behind with the living, with those whose stories had yet to be completed. His story was done. He'd done all he could. The man wasn't sure exactly what would happen when he took that step, but he wasn't frightened. He felt, somewhere in him, that it would be all right. That the universe would finally take care of him. That perhaps he would simply become a part of it all – of the clouds through which he'd always loved zipping, of the dew that spotted the grass in the morning, of the stones that held up his beloved buildings. Of the immaterial bits of love and wonder and hope that he'd fought to keep in the world.

And so, grinning his trademark grin and keeping his head high as he'd learned to do, Sirius Black took his final step into the universe. And as he took that step, the moments of his life that had meant the most, that had changed the way things had gone, that had changed _him_… they seemed to play before him… and one last time, he lived the most important moments of his life… the seventeen most important ones, as seventeen had always been the most significant of magic numbers…


	2. Moment 1

_**We don't necessarily discriminate. We simply exclude certain types of people.**_

_**-Gerald Wellman**_

The first truly significant moment in the life of young Sirius Black occurred when he was five years old. That is not to say that he had been unhappy up until that point – in fact, to the contrary, he had been fairly happy. His parents rarely excluded them from their various social events, and although he was occasionally curious about the shut doors behind which his parents whispered things they wouldn't explain to him, he was, for the most part, content. He allowed his mother to dress him in stiff, collared shirts and heavy, itchy robes because he loved to be included in family dinners and wizarding events. And when his parents explained to him that his blood was purer than most, when his mother mentioned the other, lesser race of humans who didn't have magic and had to live their lives as uncivilized beasts, struggling to survive without even the knowledge of magic, when his father explained to him that house-elves, goblins, centaurs, and other nonhuman creatures were inferior and meant to be treated without respect, he believed them. Believed them because he had no reason not to – why would his parents (who loved him and fed him and clothed him and let him feel important by sitting at the dinner table until he couldn't keep his eyes open) lie to him about such a fundamental part of his life? If it didn't make sense to him why he wasn't allowed to chat with the goblin at the bank who winked at him, or why he couldn't talk to the children he saw on the street or in the few Muggle stores he was allowed to go inside, or why he was smacked the one time he dared laugh at a joke told by a house-elf in a restaurant, then he just didn't think too hard about it. He was, after all, five years old.

And then one day, when he was waiting in line at Gringotts with his father, a young centaur ambled into the lobby. The centaur was with a wizard, and the wizard headed directly for the line, but the centaur reached out a hand and brushed the wizard's shoulder, saying something softly to him. The wizard and the centaur both glanced directly at Sirius and his father, both looking rather disgusted. The wizard said something to the centaur and then strode across the lobby and got in line behind Sirius, who hid in his father's cloak for a moment, peering around the folds at the centaur, who was waiting by the door.

"Father?" Sirius asked quietly. His father didn't hear him, and so Sirius spoke a bit louder. "Father?"

"Yes, Sirius?" his father asked, sounding weary.

"May I go play in the lobby until it's your turn?" His father glanced at the lobby – empty except for the centaur – and then nodded sharply. Slipping around his father, Sirius glanced quickly up at the wizard and then hurried by him. The young boy ambled around the lobby a bit, tracing designs with his toes and pretending to walk on tight ropes made from the cracks in the tiles, but eventually ended up on the other side, by the centaur. After a quick glance toward his father to ensure that he wouldn't be seen, Sirius hopped over a star on the floor and looked up at the centaur, who stepped away slightly.

"Hi," Sirius said brightly. The centaur regarded him coolly.

"Hello," the centaur replied slowly.

"What's your name?" Sirius pressed, curious about this creature who seemed to either hate or fear him, even though Sirius had never talked to any centaur before. He looked nice, and his fur was shiny. Sirius thought he looked rather majestic.

"Why do you want to know, young Black?" the centaur replied. Sirius stumbled back half a step, tripping on his own feet. How did this creature know his name? He asked as much, to which the centaur replied, "You are of the House of Black. Any centaur with half a brain can recognize your father from a kilometer away."

"Why's that?" Sirius asked, even more curious now than before.

"Your father has pushed to enact more anti-centaur legislation than any other wizard in the history of magic," the centaur informed Sirius coldly.

"Is that why you don't like me?" Sirius asked. The centaur did not pause before answering.

"Yes."

"Oh." Sirius thought for a moment before replying. "I've never talked to a centaur before."

"I dare say your father won't approve of you doing so now," the centaur replied, looking over Sirius's head at his father. Sirius twisted around and looked across the lobby, but his father was still waiting in line, faced away from the rest of the lobby.

"I reckon he wouldn't, either," Sirius agreed. "Why doesn't he like you?"

"Hasn't he explained to you how inferior our species is to yours?" the centaur asked dryly.

"Well, he's told me I'm not supposed to talk to centaurs, or like them, or be nice to them. But since I've never talked to any of you before I've never really thought about it. And he never said why," Sirius explained. The centaur regarded Sirius for a long moment before speaking.

"There are some things that people believe for reasons that are beyond explanation," he said finally.

"What's that mean?" Sirius asked. "There must be a reason he doesn't like you, or else he would. You seem like nice enough to me." The centaur laughed ruefully.

"Don't let your father hear you say that," he told Sirius. Sirius frowned and waited for the centaur to continue. "He doesn't like us because we're not human," he told the young boy eventually. "That's the only reason there is. We're not like him, and so he finds us inherently evil."

"What's inherently?" Sirius asked.

"If something is inherent, there need not be an explanation for its existence save the fact that it is… characteristic, natural," the centaur explained.

"So my father hates you because he thinks you're evil, but he doesn't have a reason for thinking that, except for that you're… you?" Sirius asked slowly. The centaur nodded.

"Bright boy. How old are you?" the centaur asked.

"I'm five," Sirius told the centaur proudly. "How old are you?"

"Older than five," the centaur replied. "I was your age the first time I saw your father. He spat on me as he passed me in the street." The centaur said this very matter-of-factly, almost as if it were a simple recollection and not a bitter memory. But his expression, dark and enraged, gave him away. Sirius looked doubtfully up at the centaur, not sure how to respond.

"I…" Sirius began, but just then, his father reached the counter. Turning, he saw Sirius speaking to the centaur and yelled across the lobby in a frightfully commanding voice.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK! _WHAT_ ARE YOU TALKING TO? GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!" came the roar, echoing across the lobby and making Sirius jump and then cower. Backing up, he began skittering toward his father, tripping on his feet and the ends of his robes, glancing over his shoulder in terror. Before he turned back toward his father, though, he paused, just for a second.

"I'm sorry, sir," he muttered to the centaur, just loud enough for him to hear Sirius's mumbling. The centaur, who had maintained an aloof expression for the entire conversation, softened ever so slightly.

"Yes, young Black. So am I," he murmured. And then, a moment later, "You'd better hurry back to your father before he becomes even more angered by your interaction with me." Nodding, Sirius spun and practically sprinted across the lobby to his father, sliding to a stop and almost crashing into the older man's robes.

"_What_ do you think you were _doing_?" Sirius's father hissed at him. "Were you _talking_ to that _thing_?" Sirius pulled at his robes anxiously and tried to hide within their folds. Unfortunately, his robe was made of regular cloth and not the invisibility cloak kind, and he remained quite visible.

"I… no, Father," Sirius replied quickly. "I was just…"

"You will _never_ speak to that thing, or any of its kind, ever again. You will _not _embarrass me in that manner, and you will _not_ dirty yourself by associating in any way with such creatures. Ever."

"But Father…" Sirius began quietly, glancing quickly back at the centaur, who was regarding the scene with an unreadable expression.

"But nothing!" Sirius's father roared. "Centaurs are dirty, stupid, bloody creatures that aren't even worth the filthy grass they eat. I thought I had taught you that, but clearly you didn't understand well enough. You will _never _talk to one of them again. Do you understand me?" People were beginning to stare, and Sirius closed his eyes and wished that he would just melt away into the ground.

"Yes, Father," he whispered.

"What? Speak up, boy," Sirius's father growled.

"Yes, Father," he squeaked, slightly louder. He dared a quick glance up at his father's face, which was so red Sirius wondered if he was going to explode. With an angered noise, Sirius's father turned from him and swept into the hallway to the vaults, grabbing Sirius painfully by the arm and dragging him along. Sirius twisted around one final time before the door closed behind him, catching a final glimpse of the centaur, who looked almost regretful. Sirius raised a hand in a wave, and he thought he saw the centaur nod at him before the door closed –


	3. Moment 2

_**Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.**_

_**-Anais Nin**_

The next significant moment in Sirius Black's life began with the feeling of elation. Sirius Black was, in fact, absolutely elated, perhaps more euphoric than he had been in his entire eleven years of living. This was the day that he would finally escape his parents' rule. For the past six years he had endured his harsh mother and dismissive father, the result of his announcement that he did not, in fact, believe in his parents' pure blood mania. For six years he had suppressed the urge (mostly, anyway) to hex his cousins to oblivion. For six years he had sat there and listened to his parents chat calmly about Mudbloods and the torture of giants and the terrible Dumbledore and, for the past year or so, the great Lord Voldemort.

One more minute, one fleeting good-bye, and he wouldn't have to hear a single word from either of his parents until Christmas, four and a half months away.

In fact, elated might not have covered the enormity of the happiness welling up inside the handsome young boy. Even at eleven, he was indeed handsome; no one could have contested that fact. His black hair spilled over his forehead in a careless way, hanging slightly in the way of striking grey eyes and past his ears, while his face was one that, even at eleven, was shaped in such a way that one could tell immediately that his good looks were not something he would grow out of. He carried himself well, the result of having to believe for years that he was good enough, because no one else did. Tall and lean, he stood casually, his hands in the pockets of the ornate robe he wore over a rumpled t-shirt and pants.

"Sirius, you behave yourself at school," his mother began, grasping the back of his robes so suddenly he stumbled. He glared at her as he spun to face her, defiant and annoyed. "Not like you've done recently. You've been a horror, but you'd better not cause trouble. I don't want to hear a single word about you from Horace." Sirius knew she meant Horace Slughorn, the potions teacher and a friend of his parents' from their days as Slytherins in Hogwarts, but he wasn't afraid of the man. He'd met him many times – the most impressive magic he'd demonstrated was the ability to transform into a large armchair, which, frankly, did not impress or frighten Sirius in the least, unless the armchair was sitting on top of him, as Horace was a rather fat man. He also knew what she meant when she called him a horror. Since his magic had developed more firmly, he'd stirred up quite a bit of trouble at home. He hadn't been able to do much, but he'd succeeded in cracking branches hundreds of feet up so they fell right where friends of the family had been standing only moments before – friends like the Mulcibers, or the Averys, or the Malfoys. He'd also managed to get the pudding his father had been eating the night before to explode in his face every time he said the word 'Mudblood.' That had been one of his proudest moments, actually.

"Wouldn't Professor Dumbledore write if I was in trouble?" he couldn't help but ask. His mother scoffed.

"Anything that you do that upsets Dumbledore will earn you a nice large piece of chocolate when you come home for Christmas," she said, letting go of his robes. Sirius frowned.

"You're going to have loads of chocolate all to yourself, then. Dumbledore's the greatest wizard there ever was, I reckon. And prepare yourself for tons of letters from Sluggy because honestly, the old armchair already hates me," Sirius spat at his mother. She frowned at him.

"Sirius Orion Black, you _will_ be good at Hogwarts. You _will_ get along with your fellow Slytherins. You _will_ learn magic and you _will_ be the best at it and you _will_ prepare yourself for –" She paused and looked to the left and the right before continuing, "for the future we have tried to prepare you for!"

"For being a Death Eater, you mean," Sirius muttered quietly, bitterly.

As if she hadn't heard him, his mother continued speaking. "You _will_ act like a pureblood –"

"Horrible toward all the kids who aren't," Sirius added in stride.

"You _will_ act like a talented, polite, bright, and proud boy—"

"Arrogant to the point of idiocy."

"And you _will_ uphold the morals and standards of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black! You _won't_ disgrace us, Sirius," she finished, screeching at this point. Several families in the Muggle train station glanced at the pair, who must have looked odd enough already. Besides the massive trunk Sirius had been dragging behind him, he was grasping the handle of a large cage that held an enormous, jet black owl. As if that wasn't odd enough, both were clad in long, handsome robes that didn't fit in with the suits, jeans, skirts, and shorts of most of the other train riders.

On this most fabulous day, filled with endless possibilities, choices, and people that would change his life forever, young Sirius Black didn't much feel like getting smacked across the face. He glanced up at his mother with as much disdain as he could manage. "Won't I?" he muttered, cocking an eyebrow. He shrugged, walking backwards into the wall he knew would lead him into another place entirely. "Haven't I already?" And with that, he took the final step, and as he felt himself being swallowed up into the foggy platform 9 and three quarters, he saw his mother's face screw up into a scowl, and the image of a bullfrog danced through his head, or maybe a very pale hog…

But she was gone, and he knew she wouldn't follow. Happily, he spun to face the train platform. Magical mist floated around, keeping the final good-byes of the many students relatively private. Sirius ambled along the platform, spinning in circles, his mouth wide as he drunk in the sight of so many wizard families happily strolling along. He noticed the Averys; before Bastil Avery, who was only a month older than Sirius, could spot him, Sirius had ducked behind a rather large crowd of redheads, accidentally bumping into a tall boy rather older than Sirius.

"Oh, sorry!" he exclaimed, jumping away again and swinging his owl Eurus's cage dangerously. The tall boy turned to grin at Sirius, shrugging.

"It's not a problem…" he said, trailing off as he looked more closely at Sirius. "You're a Black, aren't you?" he asked a second later. Sirius nodded slowly, realizing at once that this boy was a Weasley. Not only was he a vague relation to Sirius, he was also probably going to hate him very much. The boy struggled for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he should curse or punch him. Sirius took that moment to wave quickly and dart away, flinging his trunk into the luggage compartment as he went. He passed the Malfoys as well, but managed to skip over the fifth-year Lucius's gaze. He noticed a prefect badge gleaming on his robes with annoyance, as he remembered all too well the last time Lucius had come to visit. It had been several months before, but if Sirius remembered correctly, it hadn't ended well. Something about PRAT being magically drawn on Lucius's dress robes in pudding that had exploded seconds later in Sirius's face. He grinned at the thought.

"What're you sneering at?" came a voice from somewhere to the left of him. Sirius peered around two very tall, very odd-looking women in turbans and flowing, lime green robes to see from whom the words had come. He grimaced the second he saw her face.

"Bella," he muttered to his cousin in greeting. She looked haughtily disapproving as she looked over him. He glanced down to see what she saw that made her look so very critical and realized that he did look rather untidy. His robes had come loose a little, revealing a t-shirt underneath that had a Muggle band on the front, and one shoe was untied. He stood on one foot, pushing the other one behind the one still on the ground to hide the laces from view.

"I hear you've been giving your mother some trouble," she accused him.

"I thought you'd have graduated from Hogwarts by now," he said, ignoring her accusation completely. "What, did they hold you back?"

"I'm a seventh-year, you idiot. Don't you ever pay attention at the family reunions?" she sneered. Sirius shrugged.

"Is that what that was last month? I thought it was some sort of mass release from Azkaban. But I should have known better – your father was there, and they'd never release dear Uncle Cygnus once they got hold of him, would they?" Sirius commented lightly. Bellatrix growled and her wand was out in a second.

"Not worth it, sister," commented another cousin of Sirius's. She was a tall, pale fifth-year who was almost as nasty as her older sister.

"Ah, Narcissa! How completely horrible to see you, too!" Sirius exclaimed.

"I see you haven't grown out of your nasty troublemaking phase, Sirius. And you were such a nice little boy when you were younger," Narcissa lamented serenely. He grinned back.

"You won't get away with your shenanigans once you're at Hogwarts, you know," Bellatrix told him reproachfully.

"We'll see," Sirius replied, unconcerned as he shrugged. Just then he spotted the third sister. Andromeda was a fourth-year and much nicer than her two sisters. Unlike Bellatrix and Narcissa, she was quite civil and very kind to Sirius. She'd always been his favorite cousin simply because she didn't seem to Sirius to be pure evil.

"Dromeda!" he exclaimed, lurching forward and swinging the owl's cage dangerously close to his other two cousins as he did so. "Hey!" The tall, rather pretty girl turned to face Sirius.

"Hello, Sirius," she said warmly, hugging him with the hand that wasn't clutching her large trunk. "I see you've been having a chat with my charming sisters."

"Lovely, as always," he agreed. "How've you been?"

"You know," she replied, shrugging and grimacing at her sisters. "Narcissa was rather upset she wasn't made prefect. There was quite a tantrum thrown over that." She lifted up the sleeve of her robes to show Sirius a long, thin scar that ran almost the entire length of her arm. "Smashed magical mirror," she told him, shrugging, and Sirius winced.

"Blimey," he muttered. "And I thought having just Regulus was bad."

"Oh, yeah. How is Regulus?" Andromeda asked. Sirius shrugged.

"Wouldn't know, would I? He doesn't talk to me anymore. Last time I heard him say something to me was the middle of June when he asked me to pass the butter. He doesn't talk much to anyone, though, so I'm not sure if it's personal or not." Andromeda sighed.

"Families," she muttered. "They do complicate things, don't they?" Sirius nodded in agreement. "Well, off you go, then, little cousin. You've got to find yourself a good compartment soon or they'll all be taken and you'll end up sitting with the Malfoys or something." Sirius shuddered.

"See you at Hogwarts, then," he said, waving at Andromeda and sticking his tongue out at her sisters before squeezing through a large group of trolls and launching over what looked suspiciously like a ghoul to land on the bottom step of the train. Rather pleased with himself, he hurried up the stairs and peered down the corridor. The first three compartments he looked into were full, but the fourth just had one boy inside. He was standing, peering out the window and waving rather hard at someone. Sirius squinted out the window and saw a very tall man with dark hair waving back. His arm was around a woman who was also waving.

Sirius took a step backward, wondering at the sight. How would it be to actually miss your parents? He didn't have much time to contemplate this because the boy turned around just then and jumped at the sight of Sirius, standing there holding Eurus's cage in one hand. His glasses slid a little down his nose and he shoved them back up before confronting the surprised Sirius.

"Oi! What d'you mean by that, standing there waiting to scare me?" he asked.

"Wasn't," Sirius replied indignantly. "I was just going to ask if the rest of your compartment was taken or if I could come in."

"Oh." The boy thought for a second. "Do they look taken?" he asked, looking round at the rest of the seats. Sirius shrugged

"Could be. Have you got any friends with invisibility cloaks?" Sirius asked reasonably. A strange look crossed the boy's face. He looked like he was contemplating something.

"Not that I know of, but if you swear to be quiet about it, I'll show you one," he muttered. Sirius's eyebrows rose.

"You've got an invisibility cloak?" he asked, incredulous.

"Don't believe me?" the boy countered. Sirius glanced behind him and then stepped into the compartment, closing the door behind him and setting his owl cage down next to the boy's owl. Grinning, the boy reached into the depths of his robes, which Sirius noted were very nice and probably belonging to a respectable wizard family. Too bad, because Sirius had been planning on making lots of Muggle-born friends just to annoy his parents, but the boy seemed nice. Maybe he'd be from a great blood-traitor family. That'd still annoy the hell out of his parents.

"Here it is," the boy said, tossing something over himself and completely disappearing. Sirius gasped despite himself.

"But that's brilliant!" he exclaimed. He waved his hand where the boy had been standing, to make sure he was still there, and knocked into the side of his head. The cloak slipped a little and the boy's head poked out from under the cloak, looking thrilled.

"Cool, isn't it?" he asked. Sirius nodded.

"Can I have a go?" he asked, and the boy pulled the cloak off him and tossed it at Sirius. It was soft when he caught it. He slipped it over himself and then glanced at the boy. "Can you see me?" he asked.

"Of course not," the boy replied, laughing. Sirius took a step forward and smacked the boy upside the head. "Git!" the boy exclaimed, but he laughed and swung a hand out to smack Sirius back. Sirius laughed and slipped the cloak off.

"Absolutely brilliant," he repeated. He handed it back and sat down across from the boy, who stashed the cloak away and sat, too. "But you really shouldn't just go around showing it to everyone, you know. It'd be a perfect thing to have in school, but not if everyone knows you have it." The boy shrugged.

"I don't show it to everyone. Besides my dad, you're the only one who even knows I have it." Sirius thought about that for a second.

"But why'd you show it to me, then?" he asked. The boy shrugged again.

"You seem all right." He paused for a second before sticking out a hand. "I'm James Potter."

"Sirius," Sirius supplied, shaking James's hand hard and purposely leaving off the last name, which didn't earn him many friends in the wizarding world, or at least not the sort of friends Sirius wanted. The train started with a lurch then, and Sirius leaned back, pleased with himself for making a friend so quickly, and one who had such a useful tool at that.

"What's your owl named?" Sirius asked the boy. James grinned down at his owl. It was brown and white and very pretty.

"Boreas," he replied. "She's great, too. She can sneak things places for me where no other owl can go, 'cause she's so small."

"The north wind?" Sirius replied. James looked up in surprise. "I know a lot about old stuff. My family's pretty old, but I don't get along with them much, so I find out a lot of stuff when I'm not with them." He grimaced a little. James was obviously about to ask which family Sirius came from, so he hastily continued. "Mine's Eurus."

"The… east wind, right?" James offered, and Sirius grinned.

"Yeah."

"Nice." The boys sat in silence only for a moment before James spoke up again. "Excited about Hogwarts, then?" he asked Sirius, who lit up.

"I've barely been able to sleep for a week," Sirius replied. "I can't wait. It's going to be absolutely brilliant!" James nodded in agreement.

"My dad said the letters came at the very beginning of summer, and when mine didn't, I was terrified. I thought I hadn't gotten in or they knew I'd been causing bits of trouble and didn't want me or something. Finally my mum told me my dad was kidding and the letters didn't come 'til later," James recounted, smiling at the memory. Sirius brushed aside the hollow feeling James's story had left in his chest and grinned back at his new friend.

"Causing bits of trouble?" he repeated, grasping onto the bit of the story he'd liked best. James's eyes lit up as he grinned half-sheepishly, half-conspiratorially, and suddenly, Sirius was absolutely sure that this boy would be the best friend he'd ever have.

A/N: I changed the ages of a few of Sirius's relatives just a little. Read and review!


	4. Moment 3

_**If they give you ruled paper, write the other way. **_

_**-Juan Ramone Jimenez **_

By the time they'd gotten to Hogwarts, Sirius had decided he quite liked James. He'd been a little dismayed at James's reaction to the fact that his whole family had been in Slytherin (James had shouted, "Blimey!" so loudly that a prefect had poked his head into the compartment), and he'd mentioned later that he was a Black, which brought a grimace of recognition to James's face. However, to James's credit, he hadn't stopped talking to Sirius. In fact, he'd been very generous, buying sweets for both of them when Sirius admitted that his mother hadn't given him any money for the train ride.

"'Ere you go, firs'-years!" came a loud voice from the end of the platform as James and Sirius exited the train. They'd just finished a rather exciting game of Exploding Snap that had singed the hem of Sirius's robes rather badly, but he didn't care much. He was finally at Hogwarts! He turned to grin at James, and James returned the grin.

"That'll be Hagrid," James said. "We get to go on a boat to the castle, you know."

"Yeah, I do. You know there's a giant squid down in the lake we cross?" Sirius added. They spent the entire boat ride attempting to impress each other with their knowledge of Hogwarts.

"And then the hat sits on your head and sorts you," James said as they sat there, not listening to whatever the hat was singing.

"Yeah," Sirius whispered, abruptly not interested in impressing James anymore. In minutes, he was going to be sorted. Suddenly, it occurred to Sirius that this was possibly the most defining moment of his life. What happened next would dictate who he would know for his whole life, and how the wizarding world would see and interact with him. This was true for all the first-years, but for Sirius more so than the other kids, even, he thought. James was certain he was going to be in Gryffindor, and most of the other kids also had some idea what they'd be in. Even if they didn't know, they had nothing to _fear_.

But Sirius did. Because the whole of his family had been in Slytherin, all the way back to Phineas Nigellus, the most hated headmaster in the history of Hogwarts and Slytherin Head of House before that, and Sirius did _not _want to be a Slytherin for seven years. His parents hadn't even discussed the possibility that he might be in another house. It was always, "And talk to Slughorn if you've any concerns," or, "The common room is down in the dungeons, so watch out for spiders the first week or so," and that was when they were on speaking terms with him.

If Sirius could have just one wish, he decided, he'd wish to be in another house. Any house, really. He figured it would be a little embarrassing to be in Hufflepuff, not least of all because the name sounded rather ridiculous. Ravenclaw, that'd be all right, as Sirius already knew he was extremely bright, but he didn't much like working on things that came so easily to him, so he didn't think he'd fit in much there, either. And Gryffindor… well, he wouldn't complain to be sorted into a house filled with people that were supposed to be brave, would he?

But it didn't matter that much. If he wasn't in Slytherin, he wouldn't complain. He didn't know if he had any choice in the matter, but he hoped fiercely that he did. Engrossed in his thoughts, he played with the singed hem of his robe anxiously, scuffing the soles of his shoes against the floor.

"Sirius!" James hissed then, poking him. "Go on!" He looked round and saw that people were watching him expectantly.

"Oh…" he muttered, standing as he realized that his name must have been called. He took one deep breath and then strode across the empty space to the hat, putting on an air of complete confidence that didn't match how he felt inside. He sat on the chair quickly, stuffing the hat on his head.

_Oh, it's a Black,_ the hat said. It sounded like the hat was taking in a deep breath in order to shout the house name, so Sirius had to hurry.

_Wait!_ Sirius almost screamed at the hat in his head. _Please. Look closer. I'm not like them. I'm different._ The hat paused.

_So you are, young Black… let us examine you closer, shall we?_ Sirius quite literally wasn't breathing. _Unlike the entire rest of your family, except perhaps that one cousin of yours, you do not seem to be filled with that singular… ah, how shall I put it?_

_I'm not a dolt,_ Sirius supplied helpfully, and the hat almost seemed to chuckle.

_You're quite strikingly intelligent, so Ravenclaw wouldn't be a bad choice, but you really don't seem the studious type, do you? That's a shame; you really are extremely bright. Hmm… and you've never really had the chance, because the only people you could have been loyal to you didn't feel deserved it, but I see that you have a truly enormous potential for loyalty toward friends, so Hufflepuff wouldn't really be a bad choice, although there's a certain seriousness about you… And Slytherin, where dwell those with shrewdness and cunning, both of which you possess, could work… Perceptive, aren't you? Still… something about you… _

_Please, anything but Slytherin,_ Sirius thought, begging now. _Please, please, please… _

_The fact that you are brave enough to stand up to your rather formidable parents and beg of me to sort you into another house seals the deal, young man, and it had become quite apparent that by far the best house for you would be _GRYFFINDOR!

Silence. The entire Great Hall was completely silent. Never before, in the generations and generations of Blacks, had one been in Gryffindor. Andromeda had been in Ravenclaw, but that wasn't _so_ bad, and that had been the only time they'd strayed from Slytherin.

But Gryffindor? Sirius could hardly believe his luck. He stood, a little disconcerted that the entire Great Hall seemed to be in complete shock. He heard a few whispers.

But then he glanced over to his cousin, and Dromeda was giving him a thumbs up, and then he looked over to the Gryffindor table, where they were frozen, seemingly unsure of whether to faint or clap wildly, and then he looked at James, who was grinning so hugely that Sirius was sure his new friend's face would split, and a wild, uncontrollable joy welled up inside of him.

"YEAH!" he yelled, breaking the silence, and then the Gryffindors were clapping and shouting and whistling, rather more rowdily than Hufflepuff had done for Andorran, Tinker, and Sirius whooped with excitement as he all but leapt to the Gryffindor table, absolutely positive that the next seven years at Hogwarts were going to be the most amazing ones of his life so far.


	5. Moment 4

_**Trust is not an argument that can be won or lost. **_

_**-House, M.D.**_

"_I'm going to marry him, Sirius," Andromeda whispered to Sirius one afternoon. It was a pleasant, warm, spring afternoon, a few weeks before the end of the school year in Sirius's third year. Andromeda, a seventh-year, remained the only cousin who Sirius wanted to spend any time with, and sometimes he'd sit with her in the grass and just chat. Remus and Peter were both a little frightened by her, although she and James had grown to have at least a vague friendship. On this particular afternoon, Remus had finally convinced James to help him study, and so they were now sprawled under a nearby tree, James reading the names of roots and leaves to Remus, who recited their various uses. Sirius, tired of listening to the endless list of plants and not in the mood to play Exploding Snap with Peter, had sought out Andromeda, and the two of them were spending the rest of the afternoon chatting and tossing things into the lake to see if the giant squid would come eat them. So far, the squid had attacked two of Sirius's twigs but none of Andromeda's. _

"_What?" Sirius asked her. "You're not serious." _

"_No, that's you," Andromeda reminded him. While his fellow schoolmates and teachers often groaned at Sirius's jokes regarding his name, James and Andromeda both rather enjoyed them. Sirius grinned at her for a second before returning to the matter at hand. _

"_Dromeda…" Sirius whined. "You're only seventeen! And Ted's a dolt, anyway." _

"_That's not that young. What do you know? You're only thirteen. Lots of people get married right out of Hogwarts. And you've never liked any of my boyfriends," Andromeda protested. _

"_I didn't like Jenkins because he liked to sing and you can't date someone who likes to sing, come on. And I didn't mind Blue." _

"_His name was Blune and you know it, Sirius. Honestly, I think half the reason he broke up with me was because you insisted on calling him Blue all the time. It really bothered him, you know," Andromeda reproached him. _

"_I know!" Sirius crowed in delight. "And that time I turned his hair blue… one of the best moments of first year, that was." Andromeda just rolled her eyes and tossed another twig into the lake. It floated there, uneaten by the squid, for several minutes; Sirius watched it float as he contemplated Andromeda's news. _

"_You're really going to marry him?" he asked her finally. _

"_Yeah, Sirius. He asked me, you know," she whispered. _

"_What? He asked you already?" Sirius spluttered, tossing a handful of twigs and leaves into the lake in surprise. The squid attacked immediately, causing both cousins to jump back a little in surprise. Not quickly enough, as Sirius found himself suddenly drenched by the small wave that had lapped over the side of the pond. Groaning, he flopped backward, lying in the grass and staring up at the sky, soaking wet. From nearby, he heard James, Remus, and Peter laughing. "Oh, shut up," he called to them. Sighing, he looked up at Andromeda. "When did he ask you?" he demanded. _

"_Two weeks ago," she admitted. _

"_What?" Sirius sat upright in an instant. "And you just decided to tell me now?"_

"_I haven't told anyone!" she defended herself. "Not even the girls. You're the only one who knows." _

"_Oh," Sirius muttered, slightly mollified. "Still." He thought over this for a moment. "Your parent's won't be happy," he told her. "A muggle-born marrying into the family?"_

"_I know," she murmured. _

"_They'll be very, very unhappy, in fact," he continued. "Dromeda… you know how angry they'll be, right?" She sighed._

"_Don't you love doing things to make your parents angry?" she asked him, trying to smile. "You always send me owls all summer long telling me all the things you do that make them scream."_

"_I'm different," he told her somberly. "I barely notice it anymore, the way they look at me. Like they don't even know me. Like I'm some homeless muggle off the street who wandered into their mansion by mistake. I'm used to it. Your parents… you're not their favorite, but it's different for you. You're still their daughter." Andromeda considered her younger cousin for a long moment before responding. _

"_I'm frightened, Sirius. But… but I love him," she said simply. _

_Sirius shrugged. "Then you marry him," he replied. _

Listening to the screaming going on in the first floor of his house, Sirius was doubting the intelligence of the advice he'd given his cousin. For the past hour, he and Regulus had been sitting silently at the top of the stairs, listening to their mother, father, aunt, and uncle screeching about Andromeda's fiancé.

"Cygnus," Sirius heard his aunt Druella moan. "I just… I don't know how we're going to face anybody in the streets anymore."

"I'll curse anyone who mentions her name to you into oblivion," Cygnus announced, and Sirius believed him. "In fact, I'll curse anyone who mentions her name at all! No one will speak of her. It will be as if she never existed."

"What if we _see_ her somewhere? Or that disgusting muggle she's marrying? Oh, I'd _die_!" Druella wailed.

"Here, here, Druella," Sirius's father muttered. "There's no need for histrionics."

"No need for… Orion! You, of all people, should understand!" Druella accused Sirius's father. Sirius felt his heart skip a beat. Him. That was a reference to him. Him, and him being sorted into Gryffindor, and the shame that his parents felt whenever he mentioned that fact. Which was very often. Sirius smiled sourly and glanced at Regulus, but the younger boy remained expressionless.

"It's very simple," Sirius's father continued in the same calm voice. Calm, and yet Sirius recognized the hint of fury barely concealed. In fact, Sirius's father's calm voice was his most dangerous. "None of us will ever contact her again. She will not be mentioned in any fashion, she will be written out of all of the wills, and we will all forget she exists. She is no niece of mine, and I'm sure the rest of the family will be equally willing to be rid of her." Druella wailed again, and Sirius rolled his eyes, glancing at Regulus.

"She sounds like a dying banshee," Sirius muttered. Regulus glanced at Sirius, seemingly surprised that his brother had spoken.

"She's very upset," Regulus remarked. It was easy to tell that Sirius and Regulus were brothers, really. Only a year apart, they were very close to the same height and had the same lean build. Their hair was remarkably similar, although Regulus wore his much shorter, making him look more imposing, perhaps, but less elegant and handsome. Similarly, their faces were the same shape, and their eyes could have been interchanged without notice. But when Regulus opened his mouth again, Sirius was once again reminded why looks were where the similarities between them stopped. "Cousin Andromeda's betrayed us by marrying that mudblood. You know that." Sirius stared for a moment before standing up.

"Idiot," he muttered, striding down the stairs. Just then, however, the gathering of hysterical relatives seemed to have decided something, for Sirius heard movement in the kitchen. He waited at the bottom of the stairs, wondering what was next. He watched silently as his aunt and uncle appeared at the other end of the hallway, followed by both his parents. They stopped at the family tapestry hanging there, and suddenly Sirius knew what was about to happen.

"I'll do it," his uncle decided, raising his wand and pointing it carefully at a spot on the tapestry. He muttered something, and then – BLAM – there was a blast of light, a crack of magic, and a burned smell hanging in the air. Sirius, who had flinched badly as the spell had been cast, realized that he was gripping the banister so tightly it had begun to bend. He slowly unwrapped his fingers from the wood as, grimly, the four adults dispersed without a word.

Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Sirius rose and quietly slipped down the hallway, holding his breath as he passed his parents' room and sticking his tongue out at Regulus's closed door before heading downstairs and over to the tapestry. He found Andromeda's burned circle easily, although there were several others on the tapestry as well. Carefully, slowly, he reached a hand out, feeling the spot where his favorite cousin's name had once been embroidered in glittering gold thread. He traced his finger around the singed circle of cloth, watching his hand tremble ever so slightly as he did so.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered to the burned mark. "You're still my cousin. You didn't betray _me_." But even as he whispered the words, he realized that he didn't completely believe it. In a way, Andromeda had betrayed him more than any of his other family members ever had. Because Andromeda had been the only one who understood. The only one who wasn't crazy, who wasn't filled with hate and spite and arrogance. The only person in the whole world related to Sirius who didn't look at him with disgust.

And she'd gone and gotten herself blasted off the damn tapestry and banned from all the family gatherings, and suddenly Sirius felt very, very alone.

And yet… "I'm proud of you," Sirius whispered one more time, before turning from the tapestry. He squared his shoulders as he faced the empty house, a look of fierce determination in his grey eyes and set jaw, but as a draft blew through, he couldn't help but shiver a little.


	6. Moment 5

_**Give us this day our daily mask.**_

_**-Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead**_

The very first compartment of the Hogwarts Express smelled like something had just exploded inside it. That was because something _had _just exploded inside it. Unconcerned, however, the four boys inside the compartment were deep in conversation. The two black-haired ones were sprawled carelessly across their side of the compartment, legs stretched out and arms slung across the backs of the seats; one of them had slightly singed robes on and the other a t-shirt featuring a muggle band that he'd borrowed from the first boy. Across from them were two more boys, one looking slightly exasperated but rather amused and the other smiling nervously.

"This is our fifth year," Sirius was saying. "Seems like a lot shorter than it's been." He remembered the first time he'd met James; his robes had gotten singed that time, too. Sirius wondered what it was about him and James and singing his robes. Next time it should be James's robes instead; that way maybe he'd have at least one decent pair of robes to come home in so his mother's first words weren't shouting about mending and dry cleaning and other completely unnecessary things like that.

"That's it, mate. Fifth year, and you finally learned to count. I'm proud, I am," James said, clapping him on the shoulder. Sirius rolled his eyes and punched James, who responded by punching him back. Before they could really get to tussling, though, Remus pulled out his wand and lazily charmed both their wands to start spurting fountains of water. As one, the black-haired, slightly shaggy and now dripping pair turned on Remus.

"Oi!" Sirius exclaimed. Remus held his wand tighter, perhaps expecting retaliation, but neither boy had that in mind.

"That's fantastic!" James exclaimed. "How do I not know this charm?"

"It's the same as Aguamenti, but you have to send it out instead of focusing on your own wand," Remus explained, looking rather pleased. "Like non-verbal spells, kind of."

James and Sirius turned on each other, and in seconds, both their wands were dripping. Less than a minute later, large fountains of water were shooting rather violently out of both wands as the boys roared in pleasure.

"Oh, look, you're getting all your things wet," Remus said, rolling his eyes and drying the trunks with his own wand. James and Sirius only stopped charming each other's wands because the food cart passed by then.

"One of everything then, go on," James said, grinning at the food witch. "We're celebrating." She dutifully began handing him bits of food, not stopping until his arms were completely filled with treats.

"Anything else?" she asked the other three boys, eyebrows raised.

"No money," Sirius muttered, kicking the ground a little and looking out the window. He remained the only one of the four whose parents consistently refused to give him any money for the school year. Ironic, Sirius thought with a humorless grin, as his family also happened to be the richest of the four. The moment might have been awkward, especially if the other two had bought something, but James rolled his eyes then, motioning for the food cart witch to leave.

"Idiots, I've got enough for us all and then some," he said, tossing Sirius some jelly beans and Remus a chocolate frog. He dug through the pile for a moment before finding a pumpkin pasty and handing it over to Peter, ripping open his own chocolate frog a moment later. They'd been friends long enough for everyone to know everyone's favorites. The boys chomped on their treats in silence for a moment.

"Shall we open the Rather Risky Rounds?" Sirius asked, noticing them excitedly under a bag of jellybeans.

"No!" Peter yelped. Rather Risky Rounds, which came in the largest box of all the candies, were small round chocolates. Each chocolate was a different color – not the wrapper or a coating, but the actual chocolate. The colors were deceptive, often appearing to be one flavor while actually tasting quite different. During Christmas break his first year, the only year he'd returned home for Christmas, Sirius had stolen a large box of these from his mother's Christmas candy stash and learned all the 103 flavors. His friends knew this and always asked him before trying one, but sometimes it was more dangerous to ask for his advice than to just brave it. Peter, especially, seemed to have had multiple occasions of unpleasant tastings.

"I think we shall," Sirius continued, ripping the box open and spilling the contents across his trunk, which was sitting between the four boys. "Always a tasty delight." He surveyed the brightly colored chocolates with delight.

"What're the purple ones?" James asked a moment later, holding up a chocolate.

"Light or dark?" Sirius asked without looking up, combing through the chocolates for his favorites.

"I haven't a clue," James replied. "Is the dark one _really_ dark?" Sirius rolled his eyes and glanced up at the chocolate in question, tossing a chocolate in his mouth as he did so.

"Peanut butter, I think," Sirius said carefully through a mouthful of a pink spotted one that had been filled with a sweet mint flavor. James popped it in his mouth, only to spit it out a moment later, panting wildly.

"Git!" he exclaimed, fumbling for his wand. "Aguamenti," he cried over Sirius's roars of laughter, letting the water spray into his mouth.

"Or maybe it's firebane…" Sirius added unnecessarily, still chuckling as he reached across a panting James to snatch another. His friends were too gullible for their own good. Sirius was really just helping them out with some life lessons, he reasoned.

"The really bright orange ones are liver pie," Peter moaned. "Not a flavor that goes well with chocolate."

"Green is strawberry," Sirius commented lightly, popping one in his mouth and chewing happily.

"Red and green striped?" Remus asked Sirius warily, holding one up.

"Ah, _that's_ the peanut butter one," Sirius said, mocking revelation. James smacked him.

"And how do you mix up red and green striped with purple?" James demanded, but Sirius just laughed.

"Still wouldn't trust him, mate," Peter advised the musing Remus, peering at a white speckled one with suspicion as he did so.

"Yes, you would. You'd eat a yellow one if Sirius said it tasted good," James said, laughing. It was a well-known fact that yellow was earwax-flavored. Peter flushed and stuck the white speckled one in his mouth hastily.

"It _is_ peanut butter," Remus announced a moment later, sucking happily on his striped chocolate. There was silence for a moment, and then Sirius looked up at Peter.

"You know, by the way, Peter, I'd spit that one out before you really tasted it," Sirius mentioned casually.

Too late. Making a horrible face, Peter moaned again, wrenching open the window and spitting the chocolate out violently. "Vomit," he groaned.

"What the flavor was, or what you're about to do?" James asked nonchalantly, biting off half of a black one he was fairly certain was lemon.

"Both, I think, mate," Sirius responded for Peter as the smaller boy lurched over to the window again.

It wasn't until all of the sweets had been either consumed or stuffed into pockets that the boys turned to rather more serious matters.

"All right," James began slowly. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" Peter wondered. The other three boys just stared at him for a moment, and suddenly it dawned on him. "Oh!" He turned a slightly paler shade of pink and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"I'll go first, shall I?" Sirius suggested eagerly, rubbing his hands together. He hadn't quite gotten it yet, but he was sure today was the day. "I've been close for weeks now. I was visiting James when I got a tail!"

"Go on, then," James told him. Standing, Sirius glanced out the door of the compartment. Muttering a series of charms, he flicked his wand almost imperceptibly at the door, and the glass made a small hissing sound. Anyone in the corridor looking into the compartment would now see the scene that had been previously unfolding there: the boys and their massive feast. It was actually a rather impressive piece of magic, and Sirius was rather pleased with himself.

"All right then. Here we go," Sirius announced brightly, bouncing on his toes. And then suddenly he began to shrink. He focused hard on ignoring his surroundings as they rose above him, concentrating instead on his own body. He felt his face elongate and his fingers shorten, the shaggy black mop on his head traveling to cover the rest of his body, too.

A second later, there were three boys in the compartment and one large, shaggy black dog. The dog's naturally happy emotions mixed with Sirius's own excitement and he felt himself wagging his tail and panting as he circled the small space, trying out his padded paws and sniffing the air with his fantastic nose.

"Brilliant, Sirius!" exclaimed James. "Absolutely brilliant!" Sirius had to agree. All of his senses seemed suddenly ten times better, and he felt strong and agile. He wound around the trunk in the middle of the compartment again. It took all he had not to bark out in joy.

"Godric, Sirius, that's impressive. It'd be nice to be able to show this to the teachers, you know? They'd never question your magical talents again," Remus commented thoughtfully, reaching out to feel Sirius's thick black fur. His expression was much more serious than James's, but he smiled as Sirius poked him with his snout. Unable to contain his excitement, Sirius barked very softly, putting his front paws up on James's knees and stretching his face up to lick the boy from chin to forehead.

"Aw, you git, that's nasty, that is!" exclaimed James, wiping his face off on his shoulder as he shoved Sirius off of him. Sirius just wagged his tail more and chose instead to place his enormous front paws on the lap of Remus, who had to grin.

"Go back, idiot, before someone notices you," he whispered to Sirius, who shook his head in delight and jumped off of the boy's lap, turning to Peter, whose blue eyes darted to the door of the compartment, then to the large dog, and finally up to the eyes of James.

"Tell him to change back!" Peter squeaked as Sirius shoved Peter's feet around with his head playfully. "We'll all get kicked out of Hogwarts if someone finds out about this! Or worse, we'll get sent to Azkaban!" James rolled his eyes.

"They don't send fifth- years to Azkaban, Peter," he promised, but he turned back to Sirius anyway, slapping him good-naturedly on his shoulder. "But might as well, Sirius." Sirius wagged his tail one more time, enjoying the feeling of it swishing through the air. He had to remind himself that he could change back, that he wasn't leaving this feeling of freedom and absolute happiness forever, in order to focus on his human form. Fluidly, Sirius rose, transforming smoothly into a tall boy once again. He shoved his shaggy black hair away from his face as he sunk down in the seat next to James, stretching his feet out to rest them on the small space between the compartment door and Remus.

"Neat, right?" he asked. Peter nodded violently, and James continued to grin wildly.

"That was bloody impressive, mate. Seriously! I do wonder sometimes why we bother with this school, as our magic is obviously far superior to that of our lovely classmates. I mean, what other fifth-years do you know who're Animagi?" James rambled. "Has _any_ fifth year ever been?"

"Shh," Remus reminded him, inclining his head toward the door, but James and Sirius paid no heed.

"We haven't seen yours, mate," Sirius reminded James. "Or Peter." Peter looked up with an expression of pure terror on his face.

"You know I hate it," he muttered. "I hate it so much. Why is that what my form turned out to be?"

"A rat? No idea. Nutters, if you ask me," Sirius replied, grinning.

"It's useful. You can press the knot on the Whomper, remember? And it's easier than something big," James reminded Peter. "Or would you rather have messed up the magic on becoming an elephant and ended up stuck between with a trunk on your lovely face?" Peter shuddered.

"True," he allowed. Remus spoke then.

"Thanks, guys." His voice was soft, but the others listened when he spoke. "Really. I know how hard all the magic for this was; I know it took all summer as well as all of third and fourth year, and you're breaking laws and everything."

"Laws?" James scoffed. "We break laws daily."

"That's right. It's a bad day the day we don't find one to break," agreed Sirius.

"Plus, that's what we do for our friends," James finished, and the tone suggested that Remus should drop it, which he did with one final thankful glance at his friends. As James started talking about how excited he was for exploring the grounds as animals, Sirius looked out the window, recalling the simple happiness he had felt as a dog, a feeling relatively unfamiliar to him. Sirius couldn't help but thank whatever bit of magic had determined that his animagi form would be a dog. Maybe it was as simple as the meaning of his name (he was a dog, after all, and a black one at that), and Sirius laughed quietly as he wondered if he had his parents to thank for this new form of escape. Wouldn't they just be delighted by that bit of news, he thought wryly to himself as he grinned and turned to join in the conversation.


	7. Moment 6

_**The only difference between me and a madman is that I am not mad.**_

_**-Salvador Dali**_

Sirius gasped for breath, his face in his hands, his knees bent up in front of him to block out the rest of the dormitory. His chest felt constricted, like James was sitting on it after they'd wrestled and he'd won. Except there had been no playing around today.

Today, Sirius had almost killed someone.

It hadn't started like that. Sirius had seen stupid, greasy Snivelly talking to his dear cousin Bellatrix in Hogsmeade, their heads together, whispering something, and he'd just been so suddenly filled with rage. Bella was evil through and through – she had it in her blood. But Snape had a muggle dad, didn't he? And he was smart, Sirius knew if he admitted it to himself. Good enough at magic to know all those Dark Magic curses and spells he muttered to himself all the time. And Sirius was just suddenly struck, as he saw the contrast between his awful cousin and his awful schoolmate, by how _stupid_ it all was. Stupid, that Snape was going to become a Death Eater, like all of Sirius's family, and torture people, and kill them. It just seemed so much more evil to Sirius, to have the potential (as much as it pained him to admit Snivelly had potential) and the background Snape did, and to become _that_. Bella didn't know any better, and that made her pure evil, but Snape… he was worse than that. He was _calculated _evil, and it made Sirius sick.

But still, even thinking all that, Sirius hadn't meant to almost kill him. Because Sirius was a lot of things, but he wasn't a murderer.

It was just a good laugh, that was all. Walking by the Shrieking Shack, hearing Snape muttering about it, mentioning how to get past the Whomping Willow… it would have been funny, right? To see Snape crawling through that dark, clammy passage, his greasy hair practically dripping along with the damp roots… to see him staring at Remus, transformed and horrifying… to see him scrambling back through the passage, screaming like a little girl, tripping over himself in his terror, panting as he sprinted back up to the castle… a bit of fun, that's all.

How had a bit of fun turned into… into this? This nightmare of a night?

James had barely even paused, barely even thought about it, before he'd turned and begun sprinting toward the Whomping Willow, his face white as a sheet. Barely even had to register what Sirius had told him before he'd come to the conclusion that had never occurred to Sirius – that Moony, transformed and out of control, could and probably would kill Snape.

Snape, who was still a student at Hogwarts. Only a fifth-year. Who had a family waiting for him. Who, whether or not he knew every bit of Dark Magic he could get his hands on, was still supposed to be under the protection of Hogwarts, of Dumbledore.

And Moony… what would he have done? Sirius tried to imagine Moony's face, human again, staring at the bloody remains of what had once been Snape. Or, maybe even worse, Snape's very alive body, a bite mark standing out against his pale skin meaning his life would be forever filled with the torture that Remus had been forced to endure through his childhood…

Why had Sirius thought of none of this when he'd told Snape about the damn tree? It had been so obvious to James, and yet Sirius hadn't thought of it at all… hadn't thought of anything but having a good laugh…

Sirius cursed, slamming his fist against the metal bedframe beside him. What the hell was wrong with him? The bedframe vibrated violently, and Sirius shrunk back from it, pulling the covers around him as he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes so he didn't have to look at the empty beds of his best friends. He wasn't worried about Snape anymore. James had gone after him, and he hadn't come back yet, but it was James, so Snape would be fine. James had demonstrated time and time again how capable he was in the face of, well, anything. Sirius knew Snape and Moony would be safe now.

But Sirius wasn't so sure about himself. There were two possibilities looming in his mind, and neither was particularly pleasant. Sirius had watched many members of his family go insane. Several of his uncles and one of his grandparents were quite definitely insane, and he had his doubts about many more. He'd watched them descend into the depths of their own, destroyed minds, their eyes darting about uncomprehendingly, their words jumbled and nonsensical. Not to be able to reason, not to be able to think… Sirius couldn't imagine anything worse. In a childhood filled with pain, Sirius's own mind had always been something he cherished. They could take away everything else, and they had, but he always had his own intelligence, his own reasoning.

He couldn't lose that. And yet… how could he have been so thoughtless? Sirius forced himself to think of the most complicated spells he could manage, pulling out his wand and carefully muttering several of them, watching dragons made of sparks swirl through the room, then chasing them with fire that scorched the sparks but left Sirius unscathed. No, he could still perform very high-level magic, and yet… how could he ever be sure? How could he ever know if he was going mad? Would he be able to tell such a thing before it was too late?

And the other possibility, that Sirius himself was as evil and immoral and murderous as his family… Sirius couldn't even think about that possibility, and so he didn't.

What would happen now? Remus would come back tonight, and James, and Peter, wherever the hell he was, and… what would happen? Sirius could think of nothing he cared about more than his friends, nothing he cherished more, and yet he had let them down tonight more than he had ever done before. He knew they were his brothers, knew they cared about him. And he knew that they knew Sirius cared about them, too. But… would they forgive him? Sirius tried to imagine life without the Marauders and couldn't. Literally couldn't. They were all he had.

Sirius rested his forehead on his knees, gasping for the breath that wouldn't come, wondering if in a few hours, he would have anything left at all but himself. And wondering how well he knew himself, anyway.


	8. Moment 7

"_**You can sit beside me when the world comes down." **_

_**- All-American Rejects**_

Sirius's spinning form had barely materialized onto the hillside, the soles of his bare feet hitting the soft grass hard, when he sunk to the ground, collapsing under the weight of his day, tossing the portkey he'd been grasping aside. He knelt in the grass, letting his head sink into his hands as he shook with fright and mostly rage.

"They don't matter," he whispered, over and over into his bloody palms as he rubbed his eyes and face. "They don't matter." Maybe if he said it enough, he'd actually believe himself. "They don't matter." He felt the wet grass and dirt sinking into his clothes, staining the jeans he was wearing, and couldn't have cared less for the world. The deep gash on his ankle was bleeding and stung wildly, the bones there feeling wrong, but Sirius didn't even notice for the longest time. When he finally connected the feeling of pain to his mangled leg, he slowly unbent from the contorted twist of limbs he'd created for himself, a cage of arms and legs inside which he felt slightly more secure. Wincing and cursing, he dug his wand from the pocket of his jeans and stretched his leg out before him. He tried to drag a healing spell from his scattered brain, muttering several simple ones to no avail before remembering Vulnera Sanentur, but the long and complicated spell jumbled in his thoughts and didn't sound right when he tried it, although he'd mastered it at least a year before. Cursing, his raspy voice barely above a whisper, he slammed his fist on the ground, his wand flying several feet away as a shooting pain traveled up his leg.

Slowly, hands shaking terribly, he reached into his bag, digging around the few items he'd remembered to grab until he found what felt like a shirt. Not even caring which one it was, he pulled it out, ripping it down the middle and wrapping it as tightly as his exhausted and trembling arms could manage around his ankle. The red shirt became much redder almost instantly, but Sirius just turned from his injury, barely caring anymore. The sun was going down, and soon it would be dark, but he didn't care about that, either. Reaching for his wand and storing it safely in his pocket again, Sirius curled up on the ground, staring at the grass and the dirt and trying desperately to block out the screams in his head.

"_You're disgusting, that's what you are. Never seen a boy with worse manners, with a more despicable sense of respect and responsibility!" _

"_The world could be burning down around you and all you'd care about would be those horrid friends of yours and your damn Gryffindor scarf!"_

"_You might as well be a bloody mudblood, a pathetic, weak muggle of a thing, for all you care about the right way to do magic!"_

"_Tradition and honor mean nothing to you, do they? Well, you mean nothing to me!" _

"_You're a waste of a space and a bigger disgrace to this family than anyone's ever been. A waste of space and a waste of magic!"_

"_You're no son of mine, filthy traitor!"_

"You're no mother of mine," Sirius whispered to the empty hill, remembering the way the words had tasted when they'd been screamed back at her. The quiet rage built within him, making the shaking all the worse, until he couldn't sit still anymore. Uncurling himself from his painful ball, he stood – only to collapse back to the ground, his left leg a shooting column of agony. Moaning, Sirius pulled his wand out, whispering the spell again and again, unable to get the words out right, wincing as the bits that he had managed unhelpfully pulled at bits of skin, until he gave up again, an unending stream of curses flowing from his mouth as he ground his fists into his head to stave off the headache and the unwelcome thoughts.

Finally, slowly, hours later, Sirius reached into his bag once more. He felt around until his fingers closed on something smooth, which he pulled out carefully. Holding it in front of him, he stared at it a long time before whispering something at it and watching his reflection melt into the reflection of a very familiar ceiling. Sirius took a few deep breaths before speaking.

"James." His voice was rough and horrible sounding. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time. "Prongs, mate, you there?" For a horrible moment Sirius thought James wasn't, but then there was a rustling and a tired face popped into view.

"Sirius?" James asked sleepily. And then a moment later, "Blimey, Padfoot, what'd you do to yourself? You've blood all over your face!"

"It's just from my hands," Sirius whispered.

"From your – what? What happened? Where are you?" Sirius could already see James sitting up, reaching for his wand.

"About a mile from your house," Sirius admitted. "On top of the hill."

"My house?" James asked, confused. "How'd you get there?"

"Portkey. I had one for later in the summer, but I sped it up. I can't… I can't go back, Prongs. I can't go back home." Sirius heard James take a deep breath.

"I'll be right there, Pads. Don't… don't go anywhere, okay?" Sirius could hear the vague tone of panic in his best friend's voice. He nodded.

"Not too mobile at the moment anyway," he replied with a wince. A few minutes later, Sirius heard the familiar sound of James atop his broomstick, swishing through the air and landing clumsily in the almost pitch blackness in front of Sirius. James dropped his broomstick and knelt in front of his friend immediately.

"Padfoot, what the hell happened?" James demanded. Sirius sighed.

"I left."

"Left… your house?"

"Yeah."

"Had to get out for a while?" Sirius sighed again.

"Not just a while," he replied. "I don't think… I don't think I can go back at all. I think I'm out for good." James, who was looking at Sirius's bleeding ankle, didn't look up for a long moment. Finally, he glanced up at Sirius.

"You're out for good?" he asked Sirius, who nodded. "Right. Then you'll move in with me," James decided.

"I couldn't…" Sirius began, but James cut him off.

"You can and you will, Pads. My parents love you more than they love me. And you certainly can't live by yourself, you've only just graduated fifth year. Now shut up. If you say another word about it I'll hex your hair pink permanently, and I'm not kidding." And there was something in James's voice that suggested to Sirius that he actually wasn't kidding. The two surveyed each other for a moment. Finally, Sirius grinned, trying not to grimace.

"Right, so are you going to let me bleed out, or what?" he asked. James laughed and looked back at Sirius's leg.

"What happened?" he wondered. Sirius winced and moved his leg a little so he could look at it better.

"My mum threw a goblin bone at me," he told James. "Surprisingly sharp edges where it was broken off from the rest of the goblin." James stared for a moment, and Sirius shrugged. "Don't ask where she got it. I never did; too scared to hear that the answer was she just ripped it off some nearby goblin one day for the fun of it. Anyway, it cut me and I think might have broken some bones, too."

"And your hands?" James asked. Sirius held up his fists, inspecting them.

"I may have punched a wall," Sirius admitted, frowning. "And also my father. So much more satisfying than a curse." James laughed at his friend.

"Can you walk?" James asked doubtfully. Sirius grimaced.

"Tried that one earlier. Bad idea," he told James. "I tried Vulnera Sanentur, but I couldn't get the damned spell out right. And before you say anything, I'm not letting you try. I've seen you with that spell. Didn't you one accidentally kill a frog trying to heal its wound?" James chuckled.

"Possibly. I'll fly back and get my mum. She'll fix you up. She's a whiz at that stuff," he told Sirius. Sirius froze, and James noticed. "Padfoot. It's fine. You've got to let us help you. She'll want to, you know that." Looking away, Sirius nodded quickly, and then James was off.

Too many spells, a bone-growing potion, a warm cup of soup, and a long shower later, Sirius was sitting in a bed James's mother had impressively conjured and put in James's room for Sirius. Unable to sleep, Sirius sat, staring at the far wall. Pictures had been taped up covering almost all of it, and Sirius was watching the various witches and wizards wave and smile. Some were of James and his family, some of James and his friends. Sirius himself was on the wall more times than he could count– an excited first-year on top, waving and grinning by the train home, one arm around James and the other around Remus; a mischievous second-year under that, sticking his tongue out at Remus, who was rolling his eyes; a third-year on the left, flying around James's back yard, laughing and throwing something at James.

"You're really not going back?" James asked from his bed, making Sirius jump. He'd thought James was asleep. Sirius sighed.

"I'm really not going back," Sirius confirmed.

"What'd Regulus have to say about it?" James wondered. Sirius laughed shortly.

"Dear little Reg wasn't even home. Visiting some horrible Slytherin friend of his, I think. But I'm sure it'll be a nice surprise when he gets back."

"Wonder if they've burned you off the infamous tapestry yet," James mused.

"Hope so," Sirius replied. "Probably. It's a bit of an honor, really. Me and Dromeda can be blasted-off-the-tapestry mates now, I suppose." James grinned.

"We'll have a beautiful summer," James decided. "We'll plan the best year we've had yet for next year. And we can explore 'round here now that we've got, er, disguises." He glanced at his door. "It'll be fantastic." He looked over at Sirius, who was absentmindedly twirling his wand between his fingers. "You okay, Pads?" James asked Sirius carefully.

Suddenly, Sirius couldn't help but grin. He turned to his best friend, his brother, and told him, as sincerely as he'd ever done, "Yeah." He nodded. "It feels great, Prongs. I'm finally free."

"That you are," James agreed. "Now shut up and go to sleep. I'm exhausted; I had to go save my idiotic, homeless best mate in the middle of the night tonight." Sirius chuckled.

"Oh, shut it. You've been dying to fly in the dark for ages, admit it," he replied, lying down and shutting off the lamp by the bed.

"I will admit no such thing," James announced. There was silence, and then… "Pads, it was so cool. I have to show you tomorrow night. It was even better than daytime flying. You can't see where you're going, and you're just hurtling through it all, like you're out in space…" As James rambled on about the wonders of flying at night, Sirius grinned, realizing he'd been right before. This house was his home, this boy his brother. He thought back to the house he'd left earlier today and already couldn't imagine thinking of it as home. His mother screaming, his father cursing, the house elves sneering…

"They don't matter," he breathed to himself as he fell asleep, only this time, he believed himself.


	9. Moment 8

_**Sorry. I know how much you like to avoid avoiding confrontation.**_

_**-House, M.D.**_

"Oi! Evans! Wait up a moment!" Sirius called down the corridor. Heads turned, as they usually did when Sirius walked down any corridor. A group of third-year girls looked at Lily with obviously envious glances, and a first-year boy dove out of the way to make room for Sirius, who glanced at the boy, slightly alarmed, before looking back at Lily. He didn't hurry, choosing instead to saunter down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, making her wait. He grinned as he reached her.

"What?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

"Just wanted to say hi," he said, and she sighed, beginning to walk again. "Headed to Transfiguration?" he asked, joining her.

"Yes," she replied. "Where else would I be going?"

"Who knows, Evans? You've got an entire castle at your fingertips!" he exclaimed, reaching his arms out wide. Not that she ever took advantage of that fact, but then again, neither did most students, Sirius thought.

"I don't skive off," she muttered. "Unlike _some_ people I know. Where's James, anyway?" Sirius draped an arm over her shoulders, laughing.

"Lily, love, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you," he told her grandly, thinking about James, who was hopefully currently on top of the Astronomy Tower's roof. She looked somewhere between amused and exasperated for a moment. "And why the sudden interest in my best mate?" he continued, raising an eyebrow. He'd have to pass the information on to his pitifully in love best friend later.

"Curiosity," she replied, turning away from him but not shrugging off his arm. While it was James who was madly in love with Lily, Sirius was the one who had always had the easy friendship with the head girl, feeling at ease to put his arm around her shoulders or the like if he felt the urge.

"Curiosity killed the – " Sirius began to chant in a sing-song voice.

"I'm not a cat, am I?" Lily interrupted testily, and Sirius laughed.

"I was going to say dragon, actually. Cats are much smarter. Nasty little creatures," Sirius said, frowning deeply.

"What've you got against them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Sirius took his arm from around her shoulders to pat her, then stuffing his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Cats and dogs don't get along," he muttered darkly.

"Which is why I'll make sure to not introduce my dog Truffle to Mrs. Norris, yes, but I don't see what it has to do with you," she replied.

"Is this Truffle very large and very dangerous with teeth and claws and the like? Because if so, I'd love it if you _did_ introduce the pair. They'd get along fantastically, I'm sure," Sirius suggested eagerly, skirting around her other question, and Lily smacked him as he rubbed his hands together, imagining a large dog attacking his least favorite animal in the castle.

"You're horrible. Mrs. Norris doesn't _really_ work for Filch, you know," Lily reproached him.

"Of course she does!" Sirius yelped.

"She's a cat, Sirius. I know you're named after the dog star, but really, it's just a kitten." Sirius laughed loudly, wishing Lily could appreciate the full humor of their current conversation topic.

"Oh, Evans, you're good for a good laugh, you know that?" he chuckled, clapping her on the back as they entered the final corridor to McGonagall's classroom.

"Glad _you_ think so. Not that it matters to stupid old Sev, does it?"

"Aw, don't even think about getting me started on Snivellus…" Sirius began, but Lily continued almost as if she hadn't heard him.

"I can't believe I actually used to be best friends with the creep. He's always hanging out with Mulciber and Avery, and all the other Slytherins too, now, it seems… I saw him just this morning talking to Jahuva and Regulus, and I _swear_ they were trying to draw the Dark Mark; they're all of them just waiting to get out of here so they can go join up with the Death Eaters…"

She didn't notice that Sirius had stopped until she turned. He was a few feet behind her, gaping at her back, trying to process what she'd just told him. "What?" she asked.

"Regulus? Did you say… Regulus?" he demanded, almost not wanting her to reply.

"Well, yes," Lily said slowly, seeming to realize her mistake a moment too late. "I mean… well… I thought you… you moved out, you moved in with James right after fifth year, I just…"

"Regulus!" Heads whipped about as everyone turned to stare at Sirius. It was many students' first glimpse at Sirius's face without an expression of amusement or detachment, but Sirius didn't care. Indeed, even James, who'd trailed after him down to the pond, looked a little alarmed. From a few yards away, Peter Pettigrew looked as if he were about to wet himself from all the unwelcome excitement, while Remus was looking rather pained, his arm halfway extended to the wand protruding from his pocket.

Regulus, however, didn't turn. Sirius's darling brother was sitting with his feet dangling into the pond, talking calmly to three other boys from his house and year. Sirius seethed with rage, stomping down the hill toward the pond, barely noticing the students scrambling out of his way as he marched toward his brother.

"Regulus!" Sirius called, stopping about ten yards behind the four Slytherin boys.

"Sirius? Is that you?" Regulus asked sarcastically, twisting lazily to face his brother without removing his legs from the pond. "I almost didn't recognize your voice."

"Shut it, Reg," Sirius muttered. "Evans said you were learning the Dark Mark? What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"What do you care?" Regulus asked. It was a good question, and one Sirius wasn't sure he could answer. He spluttered for a moment, trying to come up with a suitable response. The truth was that he didn't know what had upset him so much about this, except that it was his brother doing it. He knew his cousins, his aunts, his uncles… all of them were big into the Dark Arts. His parents. This was why he'd moved out.

But Regulus was different. This was his brother they were talking about. Sirius didn't mind if Regulus boasted about being Slytherin, about being pure blood, about being rich… he didn't even care about the Dark Magic. Well, that wasn't true. He cared, but no more than he would have for anyone else. For that, Regulus was just another snotty Slytherin headed down the wrong path.

But the Dark Mark? That was too far.

This was his _brother_.

"I care because it's the _Dark Mark_, you idiot! Don't you think the name tends to point toward the fact that that's Dark Magic? That's bad stuff, that is," Sirius shot back. "You're still a student, Reg! You're at Hogwarts, not some Death Eater camp." James seemed as if he wanted to say something, standing so close to Sirius they were actually touching, but he clearly didn't know what to say.

"Going to run to Dumbleydore, are we?" Regulus spat back. "Or your prefect buddy Lupin over there? Or, even better, how about Mr. Head Boy? You've just got _tons_ of friends to report your troublesome little brother to, don't you?"

"I'm not running to Remus or James." Sirius's voice was deadly quiet. He was suddenly reminded of his father's voice, when he was angry. Sirius didn't enjoy the comparison but decided he wouldn't mind using a few of his father's choice words on his little brother right now.

"Sure seems like you've got quite the backup," Regulus commented. "What, you going to duel me?"

"I'd hex you off the grounds before you'd taken your wand out, Reggy boy," Sirius taunted, pulling out his wand lazily. And it was true – Regulus, for all his boasting, was only an average student. Sirius, on the other hand, was one of the most talented at Hogwarts, and he knew it.

"Sirius," James muttered quietly. It was an odd sight, James holding Sirius back from doing something, but Sirius knew James wasn't about to let him duel his little brother.

"But James is right. I don't feel like it right now, and anyway, our dear old mum would just be heartbroken if she lost both her sons, one to the Potters and one to her own flesh and blood. And we can't have that, can we? Not our dear, loving old mum…" Sirius watched his brother's face turn red.

"Shut it about mum, Sirius," Regulus muttered, his own wand coming out then.

"Okay, we'll get back to the reason I'm even speaking to you. Stop this Dark Mark business, Regulus," warned Sirius.

"Oh, stop acting all high and mighty," his little brother sneered. "Like you're perfect."

"I don't go learning Dark Magic for fun!" Sirius exclaimed, his wand hand twitching.

"No, you hang people up by their ankles for fun," Regulus shot back.

"That was a laugh, that was, and Snivlley always has it coming for him," Sirius argued. "Listen, why am I still down here? Just stop with the Dark Mark and I'll find no more reasons to speak to you anymore, all right?"

"Of course. Since you asked so nicely, I'll go learn charms for producing bunny rabbits and fluffy clouds and rainbows, dear _brother_ of mine." Regulus was clearly enjoying himself. Sirius gripped his wand tighter.

"Sirius," James muttered again, but Sirius didn't need it this time.

"You're not my brother," Sirius sneered, turning from the pond and stalking away, his three friends so close behind you could barely see him over their heads.

That night in the dormitory, the other three watched Sirius carefully. He watched them watching him, letting them carry the conversation as he picked at a loose string on his pillow, not really paying attention to what they were saying.

"Don't you think, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Hmm?" he hummed, focusing on Remus.

"I said our Transfiguration homework is going to take all weekend," Remus repeated for him.

"Aw, Moony, you know I'd never actually spend all weekend on _any_thing…" he replied, throwing a pillow at Remus.

"How do you plan on getting it done, then?" Remus asked. "Despite your apparent brilliance, the essay's supposed to be six feet long, and I haven't seen you write more than a foot and a half for anything all year." Sirius didn't answer. "Sirius?" Still no answer. "Padfoot, you're staring at me."

"Huh?" Sirius frowned and reached up to shove his hair out of his eyes, distractedly trying to focus back on the conversation. This lack of focus was obnoxious, and he wasn't going to put up with it from himself.

James laughed. "You were staring at Remus, Pads. Got something on your mind, then?"

"I wasn't staring at him," Sirius retorted.

"Okay, you were staring at the space where my head was, then," Remus replied agreeably, rolling his eyes.

"I think I'll go to bed," Sirius said, pulling the curtain around his bed and flopping down, pulling the covers over him violently. He stared at the curtain, completely unable to sleep, for ten or fifteen minutes before hearing the others begin to whisper again.

"What is it with him?" James's voice reached Sirius's ears. Oh, joy, they were talking about him.

"He's just upset about – " Remus began quietly, but James interrupted him.

"Regulus, I know." James sighed. "But he hates him. Why should it be any different than Bellatrix joining the Death Eaters or that weird uncle of his getting caught torturing that Muggle?"

"It's different because he didn't –" Remus explained, but James interrupted him again.

"Grow up with them, live with them, yeah, I know." There was silence for another minute or so. "I hate Sirius's family," James whispered suddenly. Sirius frowned as he listened. "I hate them for being so awful to him and not even caring that he's gone. Blimey, Padfoot's one of the best Quidditch players here, and he's easily the best at magic in our whole class… they have a lot to be proud of. And instead they ignore him when they're at their best, and make him feel like _this_ when they're at their worst. It's not fair."

"I know," Remus murmured. "But he should know that he has us. We're no substitute for a family, but…"

"We're better than any old family," James decided. "We've got a supply of eight thousand chocolate frogs!" Remus chuckled, and even Sirius, from his place in bed, had to smile at the memory of the acquisition of those frogs, and at the family that he had right here with him.


End file.
